The Social Riot Machines
by Sacrificial Tao
Summary: Harry doesn't care anymore, he really doesn't! After meeting some local muggle teens, Harry debates about whether or not to return to Hogwarts for his Fifth Year, he does -eventually- decide to go, however it is only for the sake of his friends, Ron, Hermione and Ginny. He believes they are the only thing worth fighting for, not the Wizarding World which both fears and loves him.
1. Chapter One

**Hey there, this is the new version of Chapter 1 :p Please enjoy, there's much more effort involved in the writing of this one, plus a program with spellcheck!**

* * *

The indifference that shrouded Petunia Dursley's voice as she told Harry that the local secondary school -Stonewall High- was having a summer fete was absolutely no surprise to him. It was all he could do to nod civilly and reply in his most respectful tone, but of course his aunt saw right through his supposed apathy. A voice in the back of his head -one which sounded suspiciously similar to Professor Snape's- commented that it was probably a good idea to not wear Dudley's hand-me-downs whilst attending this fair, after all the entire neighbourhood already thought he was a delinquent that attended a secure centre for incurably criminal boys, he didn't need to add to their negative perception. The only clothing in his trunk that had any semblance of normalcy was the parts of his Hogwarts uniform that did not bare the school or Gryffindor crest.

Though he could see that Aunt Petunia didn't want to acknowledge it, as he re-entered the kitchen to get a glass of water, what he was wearing was a definite improvement over the oversized things he was forced to wear.

As he walked through the streets of Little Whinging, he couldn't help but glance over his shoulder every few steps. Harry felt as something was crawling over his skin, that treacherous, yet helpful indication that he was being followed. A part of him believed that it was probably on Dumbledore's orders, just in case Death Eaters decided to attack, however the slightly more cynical part of him -again a part that sounded scarily akin to the Potion's Master- told him to be on guard, that it could indeed be Death Eaters. If the person, or group, following him meant him any harm, they would likely do so while he was in an enclosed space which would restrict his mobility and the functionality of drawing his wand to defend himself. With that thought, he took a route toward to the school he was supposed to attend before finding out he was a student at Hogwarts that was somewhat longer than normal, keeping to roads which he knew would have other people wandering around. Thankfully, as he neared the school, there were a lot more of Little Whinging's residents, so he began to feel calmer, though he didn't become completely complacent. He did briefly question the idea of actually going into the school, especially if his unofficial escort was a Death Eater, he was pretty sure that murdering muggle children in addition to bringing Harry to their maniacal leader would just be a bonus.

The first thing he noted, about the summer fair, was that most of the students were in uniform, which meant he didn't stand out too much at all, and the second was that there was music playing. Harry looked around, and eventually spotted a group of four boys playing on an improvised stage. Interestedly, he made his way over to them and listened for a while. Overall, he enjoyed the music, he didn't know if they were performing their own songs, or if they were covering them, but there was one lyric in particular which really struck him.

"_Don't fucking fuck with me anymore,_

_I'm so fucking sick of your fucking psychotic shit,_

_Get lost, get lost, get lost, get lost!_

_I'm losing my fucking mind, not even in a good way_

_And it's all because of you and your weird shit!"_

The vocalist looked directly at Harry as he sang, and it was almost as if the world ended around him. In spite of the recent horrors he had witnessed, he smiled happily, feeling oddly at home amidst people his own age that knew nothing about him. Tearing his eyes away from the vocalist, he realised the two guitarists were acting strangely in the background -sticking their tongues out at each other, making rude gestures at each other when they had a spare second, and even going as far as kicking each other's arses. It was strangely amusing, and after a few more minutes, he found he was eagerly dancing with the rest of the small crowd. The boy band seemed to be somewhat infamous, from the glimmers of conversations that Harry managed to catch; their lyrics were usually about love, but when asked they always replied that the lyrics were about boys. In Harry's opinion, that wasn't too strange, after all, the wizarding world had songs about hippogriffs; Harry really didn't think songs about gay couples was that weird in comparison.

Harry wasn't entirely sure how long he stayed and watched the band, he found out that they didn't have a name as of yet, they had gone through several in the last school year -apparently they had been together as a group since year seven- but didn't like any of them. He hung around, hoping to at least tell them he appreciated the music, and but didn't think he would actually get the chance; they would probably go and mingle. He was utterly shocked then, when the vocalist approached him.

"Hey there stranger, I'm Alex," he said, making a peace sign as he did. Harry was aware that he was probably gaping at the poor boy, so he shook himself mentally, and was about to reply, when this boy -Alex- continued. "You looked kinda glum, I hope you feel better now, you certainly look a lot calmer."

"I'm Harry, and I just wanted to say, I really liked the music, and I do feel so much better now, something bad happened at the end of school, and it kind of shat me up I guess," Harry explained as best as he could. Alex threw a surreptitious look over his shoulder, and for the first time, Harry noticed that the other three boys, plus another were watching curiously.

"Do you want to get lemonade and come chat with us?" Alex asked sincerely, and Harry wondered if this meant he was going to make some muggle friends. He laughed internally, the thought was so strange, however he couldn't think of anything better to do at that time.

"I can come and talk," he confirmed, and it was somewhat heart-warming to see the genuine smile on Alex's features.

He was lead to a large tree, the others dropped into the shaded grass and grinned at each other, Harry sunk slowly, feeling comfortable yet nervous at the same time. The first to say anything was a tall Asian boy, and Harry was certain he didn't perform.

"Annyeonghashipnikka, hěn gāoxìng jiàn dào nǐ, Ezra to moushimasu," he said. Harry was immediately struck by how deep the boy's voice was, rich and soothing, yet strangely aggressive.

"You'll have to forgive Ezra, he's only been in England for a few months, he can speak English though, he just generally chooses not to with new people. I'm Jake," introduced one, who sported a shock of bright red hair. The others laughed, and Harry managed a smile too.

"I'm Paul," added another, "and this is Matt, my boyfriend." The band members watched Harry's reaction carefully -he thought that it was probably in case he said something rude.

"How long have you been together?" Harry asked interestedly, and he really was curious, as none of his friends at Hogwarts had managed to maintain a relationship for more than a few days without something going pear-shaped.

"Nearly two years," replied Matt, and Harry heard a hint of a European accent, though he couldn't quite place it. After a few seconds of pondering, he mentally slapped himself, Matt's accent sounded similar to Fleur's. "So, where do you go to school? I don't think I've seen you around here." Matt asked, and Harry deliberated about how much he could actually say about his education.

"I attend a boarding school in the Scottish Highlands, it's so backwards that most of the students haven't even heard of electricity and we write with quills and inkwells," he revealed, his tone light. There was a smattering of laughter amongst the others, they obviously thought it was amusing. Once the chuckles had died down, Alex turned to him.

"So what was this fuck up at the end of the school year?" He queried, and Harry wondered if that was the sole reason for him being there at that time.

"The entirety of last year was a fuck up," Harry told them darkly. "It began at the beginning of the year, I went with my friend's family to a sporting event, and while we were there some cultist psychopaths raided the campsite and started humiliating the campsite owners, doing things like pulling up the little girl's night dress. So anyway, I nearly got accused of err… painting this group's insignia on the grass, but considering it was the leader of that group that murdered my parents fourteen fucking years ago… honestly the people that graduate from my school have no common sense what-so-ever. Then when we got to school it was announced that there was going to be a tournament involving us, a school from France, and a school from Bulgaria, and that because people have died in the tournament in the past, there would be an age restriction of seventeen on entry." He paused for breath, and was almost pleased at the displeased expressions of his new friends. Where they friends? Well, Harry thought they could be.

"So obviously the other students arrive and, the ballot box is left in the Entrance Hall, on Halloween the Champions are selected; Fleur from France, Viktor from Bulgaria and Cedric from our own school. Somehow, and I really don't understand how the fuck this happened, but I was entered under a fourth school. Don't ask how, I don't know, but because it's a 'legally binding contract' I had to compete."

"I call bullshit," Ezra exclaimed angrily, and once more, Harry was oddly struck by his voice.

"Legally binding my ass, how can you compete if there is no fourth school and they know it?" Matt asked furiously, to which Paul gave an odd look –Harry by this point had no idea what was going on- and a vivid pink blush blossomed on Matt's cheekbones.

"The first task was a combat trial, and I think I got tied first place… I think Cedric got burnt on the face, and Fleur's robes caught fire… oh and Viktor poked the opponent's eyes… and the object we were supposed to collect got trampled, I on the other hand, only got a whack to the shoulder.

"The second task was a swimming trial, we have a massive lake in the grounds of our school, so someone special to us –like our best friend/girlfriend/boyfriend- was put in the centre, and we had to swim there, and then swim back with our friend who was of absolutely no use because they were bound. By this time I was in second place, because I have a hero complex and had to make sure everyone was rescued," he informed them dryly.

"The third task was a maze, sounds pleasant enough, but it wasn't. Viktor was ambushed on the outskirts and told that if he took out Fleur and Cedric, he would get the thousand pound winnings. So, naturally, he took out Fleur, but I happened across him as he was trying to get Cedric and together Cedric and I overcame him and left him in a bush. Cedric and I split up, and then coincidentally reached the centre of the maze at the same time, where the cup was. So we argued about who should take it, until eventually we decided that we should both take it, it would still be a victory for our school that way."

"That doesn't sound so bad," Paul pointed out.

"Then we got kidnapped, and taken to a graveyard where Cedric was murdered and the leader of the cult I mentioned earlier made his reappearance after living like a hobo in a forest in Albania since he failed to kill me when I was a year old." Harry continued as if he hadn't been interrupted, a decidedly sombre tone coating his words. He was almost saddened that he had told his potential friends about that, he didn't know how they would take that tidbit of information. They all seemed surprised, and quite rightly so.

"So let me get this straight," Ezra muttered, "a cult leader with a bit of an ego complex is now out to get you after failing to kill you as a baby and living as a hobo for the last thirteen years?"

"Pretty much," Harry confirmed, and he was amused at the way the other boy had summed it all up, when put that way, Voldemort didn't seem nearly as intimidating. "Do you know what the worst part of it is?" He asked, suddenly remembering something that he not divulged to Dumbledore or the Minister of Magic.

"What?" They all asked in unison.

"He was naked! He is a man of at least seventy, and he was there butt naked!" Harry exclaimed disgustedly. "He wouldn't even dress himself, the first thing he said was 'Wormtail, robe me!' It was almost enough to put me off men!" He cried in disgust. At his last revelation, there was a murmur of interest.

"You know…" began Alex slowly, "we don't have a drummer, you could probably tell… if you wanted, you could try it out, I don't think any of us would mind," he said hesitantly, looking around at the rest of his band-mates. When none of them disagreed, he continued. "I know you go to a boarding school, but while you're there you can learn and practise right? It might help with everything that's going on, music is a wonderful outlet for your frustrations, and you know what, I think I get why you looked so calm after that first song!"

Harry was absolutely astounded by the offer, and he shakily accepted, he could almost remember music lessons in primary school, and the way he had felt during them.

"I promise I will try my best," he told them.

"Drumming is easy," Ezra revealed abruptly, "you'll get the hang of it quickly, especially if you picture everyone you hate on the skins."

Harry, along with the rest of his newfound friends laughed at Ezra's comment, and continued talking about inane things for several hours, before Harry decided it was best for him to return to the Dursley's.

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_**Annyeonghashipnikka - Hello - Korean/Hangul formal**_

_**hěn gāoxìng jiàn dào nǐ - Pleased to meet you - Mandarin Chinese**_

_**Ezra to moushimasu - my name is Ezra - Japanese**_

_**^ I have studied these so it should be right, but because of the blend of languages, the actual grammar probably isn't correct, sorry. **_

_**I hope you enjoyed the new version of Chapter 1!**_


	2. Chapter Two

A few weeks had passed since Harry had first met the five boys that he now worked with on a daily basis, and he felt a lot better than he had at the beginning of the summer holidays. Each day that he walked toward their sanctuary –AKA Ezra's garage- he became more aware of the presence following him. It had only taken a few days to work out that he had a multitude of different people tailing him day and night, and a further lapse of several days after that realisation, he was able to determine which was which, though he still didn't know exactly _who _was following him. He was certain, however, that if it were in fact Death Eaters, they would have struck by now. As a result of his reasoning, he stopped taking the most obscure path, and walked at a reasonable pace, after all, if they were in fact there on Dumbledore's orders, it would be bad to accidentally loose them and then get into a fight with actual Death Eaters.

The strings of the bass resting on his leg dug into his fingers -mentally he cursed Jake for always buying the heaviest gauge possible. Harry could feel the intense gaze of the bassist as he watched Harry playing. Fingers danced along the fret-board, occasionally producing a dead note or some other absurd sound, and Harry found it hard to concentrate with that heated stare fixated on his hands. He managed to get halfway through the song he was playing before he had to stop, it was getting difficult to move his fingers in the correct way, and the frequency of incorrect notes was increasing. His tired fingers protested as he flexed them a few times.

Ezra and Alex were rehearsing lyrics near the door, it was raining outside and a pleasant breeze cleansed the stale air. They were without guitarists for the afternoon, the pair had gone shopping for strings, clothes and hair dye. Harry glanced at the mirror and nearly did a double take; he looked so much older with facial hair –something he had meticulously gotten rid of during the last year, but decided to let grow that summer, just to see how it would turn out. So far he liked the result, and it set him apart from the other band-members, who were either too young to grow any, or preferred to keep themselves clean shaven. The addition of some new glasses –rectangular plastic frames- and his now somewhat wavy hair, he could appreciate his appearance for the first time ever. Jake liked it too, which in Harry's opinion was as good a reason as any to keep it the way it was. They were preparing for their last gig of the summer, scheduled on the thirtieth of September, but Harry still didn't know if he wanted to go back to Hogwarts or not. A part of him wished to stay out of the melee of opinions -no doubt he was going to be a target for hatred and bullying next year, especially if any of the other students found out about his summer. He had told Ron and Hermione that he was considering the possibility of dropping out of school, and that he wouldn't write back until he had made up his mind, it was surprising really, that he hadn't had any letters from Dumbledore politely –not so politely- explaining that it was important for Harry to return and continue his education. With his indecision hanging between them, Ron and Hermione had eventually stopped writing, though they both said that they would continue to write if he did in fact begin attending Stonewall High.

While lost in his musings, he failed to notice Ezra standing beside him until the much taller boy prodded him gently, requesting that they go speak in private.

Once Ezra's bedroom door was securely shut, he turned to face Harry, who had perched himself on the desk chair.

"Your boarding school, you have to get the train from King's Cross Station tomorrow right?" He asked, and Harry could detect a hint of suspicion, which peaked his curiosity immensely.

"Yes, I do," Harry replied amicably, there was no point in lying about it.

"In that case, is your school called Hogwarts?"

"It…" Harry was absolutely astounded -he had never gotten any hints that Ezra was a wizard. "It is… are you going to be attending?" He asked out of intrigue, he felt that it would be good to have an extra friend there.

"No, but my sister Jasmin will be," Ezra explained with a smile. "I have a favour to ask of you then," he continued. Once more, Harry found that he was fascinated, and he dearly hoped that he would be able to help his friend.

"What is it?" He asked, leaning forward in his seat in anticipation.

"I know you've been considering leaving, but I want you to go back." He paused, and it was one of the few times Harry had seen Ezra struggle with English. "My father managed to find out about what is going on now, we believe you in that the hobo wizard is around once more. Would you go back, so that Jasmin has someone she knows? I want her to be able to look up to someone, and she likes you as a brother already."

Harry's heart thundered in his chest, it would give him another reason to go back –the first being Voldemort, and the second being his friends- and he didn't want to leave Jasmin alone, she didn't actually like speaking English and much preferred Korean, which made her seem shy and unapproachable.

"I'll do it, who knows what will happen this year!" Harry confirmed, giving his friend his best smile. Ezra grinned in response, and Harry was struck with the solution to the issue of sending compositions back and forth. "Can I owl you my work?"

"Of course, I look forward to it," Ezra laughed and picked up a black fedora with a green band around it. "I think this suits your look," he said as he passed it to Harry. Harry thanked Ezra profusely, and placed the hat on his head, adjusting the angle until it was perfect. He wasn't sure what angle, until he heard a small sound of approval from Ezra. "Also, we can give you a lift tomorrow."

* * *

They were surprisingly early for the train, and so Harry and Jasmin were able to get a compartment near the back. The girl was now asleep, and Harry believed she had probably stayed awake for the majority of the previous night, either in excitement of apprehension. She shivered, and Harry extracted one of his robes from his trunk, wrapping it around the trembling figure. Though the summer had been hot, it was surprisingly cool in London, and Jasmin had not been prepared, wearing only a vest top, a rather thin looking blazer and a skirt.

About half an hour into the journey, Harry decided that his friends probably weren't looking for him, and so pulled his copy of 'The Hobbit' out of his trunk and turned to the first page. He had read it before, several times over, but he always found it amusing. Soon enough, he was lost in the seemingly endless paragraphs of type. As he read, he noticed that many students paused as they passed his compartment, many whispering to their friends, and he began to feel quite annoyed. He had gone the entire summer without encountering anyone from the Wizarding World, and then suddenly he was thrust back into it. To his utmost surprise, after a further hour of this behaviour, the compartment door slid open and in the threshold, was Hermione, looking apologetically at Jasmin.

"Excuse me Professor, would you mind if we sat in this compartment? The others are all full," she explained, keeping her voice low.

"_Tsk, _Hermione I'm astonished, you can't even recognise one of your best friends?" He asked casually as he folded the corner of his page and set his book down. Hermione frowned, her eyes flicked over his face, taking in the changes.

"Everyone thinks you're the new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, you look really mature!" She exclaimed brightly, apparently now over the new look. "Have you finished your homework?" Harry scowled, it was almost as if she doubted he had done it without her breathing down his neck.

"I have," he replied, smirking, "I have also completed at least one extension activity per subject, but in most cases two or three." Though he believed Hermione was a brilliant friend, he found her obsession with other people's grades rather off-putting. It amused him to no end the way her eyes widened.

"There are extension activities?" She questioned, her voice going an octave –or three- higher.

"Yes, I'm surprised you didn't know that already, I just owled my completed homework and asked if there was anything else I could do, they all sent back research projects, most likely to do with the first unit of study this year." Another thing he enjoyed was providing with something she didn't know, her expression immediately turned sour.

"Why were you doing extra-credit then, you've never been interested in it before?" Her tone was accusatory, as if she suspected he had an ulterior motive for doing the extra work.

"I need to survive, and any knowledge I gain-"

"Annyeonghashipnikka," Jasmin suddenly yawned, sitting up a little straighter and shucking the oversized robe from her body.

"Annyeong hashimnikka, eotteohke jinaeseyo?" Harry asked, looking away from Hermione and her severe gaze.

"Jaljinaeyo," the girl replied, sticking to her preferred language for the moment.

"As I was saying, as Voldemort is back, I need every bit of knowledge I can scrounge off of the teachers." Harry offered no further insight into why he was doing additional work, but that was because there weren't really any other reasons. Silence descended on the compartment, Jasmin began reading a Korean magazine, Harry wasn't sure what it was about.

"So what exactly did you do over the summer? What made you decide to come back?" Hermione asked stonily, "apart from out-do me in the homework."

Harry didn't especially want to talk about the summer, particularly after the little revelation of Hermione disliking that he had done better than her for once.

"Well, I didn't do an awful lot this summer, I guess. I made some muggle friends, joined a band, began learning how to play drums and bass, got a boyfriend, earned a little bit of money, bought my own bass and began upgrading the drum kit I was borrowing, and began having civilised conversations with my aunt and cousin," He paused for a few minutes, half expecting Hermione to pick up on at least one of the things he had listed.

"Oh, you had a boyfriend? I thought you liked Cho Chang?"

"No I didn't, but I couldn't exactly ask a boy to the Yule Ball last year, could I?" They both laughed, and the tension began to dissolve. "As for why I decided to actually return, well, a friend asked me to."

"Hang on, Ron and I are your friends, and we asked you to, but you just said maybe! What's so special about this friend?"

At Hermione's harsh words, Jasmin squirmed uncomfortably, she was aware of why had come back after all.

"Hermione, watch yourself. Ezra asked me to keep an eye on his sister, seeing as they've only just moved to the U.K this year," he explained vaguely. Hermione seemed dissatisfied with his answer. Harry didn't want to talk anymore, so he picked up his book once more, and ignored Hermione's probing.

* * *

_**Annyeonghashipnikka - hello - Korean/Hangul  
Annyeong hashimnikka, eotteohke jinaeseyo - good afternoon, how are you? - Korean/Hangul  
Jaljinaeyo - I'm good thank you - Korean/Hangul.  
**_

_**This chapter may be a little bit deceptive, it isn't going to be one of those "Harry hates everyone that isn't Draco" type of things, they're just having a *slight* disagreement :p **_

_**My work is so much better when written at a reasonable hour ne?**_


	3. Chapter Three

**The Social Riot Machines – Chapter Three**

Breakfast seemed unusually noisy to Harry, who had spent the majority of his early mornings conversing quietly with his band-mates about music. As the minutes ticked by, he felt increasingly at odds with his boisterous housemates, he almost envied the Slytherin table, with their civilised and -for the most part- polite chatter with each other. Impatiently, he scanned the Ravenclaw table, searching for the pin straight black hair that identified Jasmin Ameru. After a few seconds, he spotted her and waved. Unfortunately for him, Malfoy and his decided pathetic henchmen caught the gesture; no doubt he would get some stick for it later. Harry noted that the girl appeared to be a little overwhelmed, but he didn't know whether it was because of the noise or the food. He was aware of a few of the cultural differences between the east and the west, one of which being that people were much more soft-spoken in the east. Another thing he knew of, was that Jasmin and her family had been in England for a grand total of just over five months. A part of him wanted to invite her over, but another part of him thought the Gryffindor table would probably be too much for the girl. He also felt a little congruous with the food. He had been a regular guest at the Ameru's, particularly at breakfast time, and they rarely –if ever- made western style foods, typically Phailin (Jasmin and Ezra's mother) would make either a Chinese style cornmeal pancake rolled with egg and green onion, or Japanese style miso soup, salted salmon and rice. Quite honestly, Harry preferred it to toast and bacon. When breakfast was nearly over, he dejectedly nibbled on a slice of toast.

"So how exactly are you going to be a part of that band if you're hundreds of miles away?" Hermione suddenly asked, startling Harry out of his reverie.

"I have several songs that still have the drum element missing, I'm going to compose while I'm here and send the music to Ezra, who will be the stand in drummer," Harry explained as he set his toast aside and picked up a mug of coffee.

"What happened to you voice?" Ron questioned, and Harry was somewhat surprised that he had even noticed the change.

"Yes, I was wondering that myself," Hermione added, which made Harry feel compelled to answer.

"I got into a fight, and I think I got elbowed in the throat. Jake liked it though," he said, and he could feel his face getting a little warmer. Both Ron and Hermione looked a little confused, and Harry realised he was talking about his band-mates as if his school friends knew them. "I'm sorry, I wasn't really thinking. I'll tell you a bit about them, they've heard a lot about you two, it's only fair you know about them too. Alex was the first one that I met, and he's the lead vocalist. I was at Stonewall High's summer fare and I heard him singing, the lyrics resonated with me so powerfully that they lifted me out of my funk, and through listening to him that first time, I was able to begin to relax. The change was apparently so noticeable, that he was able to spot it onstage. Ezra is the stand-in drummer and secondary vocalist. He isn't a backup per say, actually, I suppose he is, but he tends to accomplish the kind of interesting voice effects bands add in editing without any of the fancy equipment, he can just do them. He's originally from Thailand but has lived pretty much all over South-East Asia. Alex and Ezra are a couple and are pretty much inseparable, apart from the fact that Ezra is the year below Alex. Alex is fifteen, Ezra is fourteen. Incidentally, Ezra is also the tallest out of us, and quite possibly the skinniest. He has learnt a lot of different martial arts over the years, and doesn't take kindly to homophobic insults.

"Paul is our lead guitarist, originally from California and has been playing guitar for a long time now. He used to surf a lot, and he's kind of maintained the stereotypical surfer look, with the bleach-blonde hair and a semi-decent tan –I have no idea how he accomplishes it by the way. Matt is our rhythm guitarist, and is from France, specifically from Niort. He's played guitar since he was about nine which is when his family moved to England, but before then he was a really sporty kid, he played football, basketball and softball, in addition to which, he used to take gymnastic and trampolining classes so he's super flexible, which he does demonstrate quite often by pretty much bending over backwards. Paul, of course, absolutely loves it whenever that happens. They've been going out for nearly two years."

Harry was extremely amused by the incredulous looks on his friend's faces -they too, were used to the fragility of relationships in a school with no privacy.

"That leaves the bassist. His name is Jake, and he's the eldest out of us –Ezra is the youngest if you didn't already work that out. Jake has been playing bass since he could reach the headstock, so since he was five or six. He'll flirt with just about any human with a pulse, whether or not he means it is a different matter entirely. I noticed that when he was being serious, he said completely different things to when he was just flirting for the sake of it. We got together about a month ago, and he gave me something that I'll never forget," he finished solemnly, standing as he did.

The number of people in the Great Hall had dwindled to only a handful, including Professor Snape and the Headmaster. Dumbledore appeared to be talking to the Potion's Mater, while the acerbic man glared intently into his mug. Harry was sure that if the glower had been directed at anything living, it would have died within seconds.

"You don't have to come with me, I just need to see Professor Flitwick," Harry told them, even though he was glad to have company.

"We're coming with you, we want to hear more about your summer," Hermione informed him cheerfully. Ron nodded eagerly, and Harry was sure it was because he had refused to talk to them while he was still mulling over his options.

"It's really not that interesting, but okay. In many respects, it was the best summer I've ever had, I would get up, do my chores for the Dursley's then go to Ezra's house and play. Ezra's family own a double garage, so we had plenty of room. With all of their help, I began learning bass, guitar and drums, they were so supportive, I wouldn't have gotten so far without them, even though I'm still pretty naff at guitar and bass. When my aunt and uncle realised I was doing something normal, with normal people, they got strangely co-operative themselves, they even went as far as buying a couple of second-hand instruments for me, as well as a few other bits and pieces I needed," his voice sounded oddly bright to his own ears, he didn't normally feel that way when talking about his school breaks with the Dursleys.

As they were walking up to the Charms Corridor, both Ron and Hermione tried to wring the information about Jake's gift out of him, but he had denied them any further details. He did, however, decide to tell them when they were out of the way of potential eavesdroppers.

The inside of Flitwick's office –once they had been permitted to enter- was not quite how Harry had expected it. There were books and papers everywhere, most of them on charms, but occasionally, Harry spotted one on duelling tucked away amongst more mundane subjects, almost as if the small Professor didn't want them to be noticed. Some of the more unexpected items included a xylophone, a clarinet and a very well read copy of _The Hobbit. _

"Ah, Mr Potter, the Headmaster informed me you would be seeing me. Do you wish to book a weekly slot for one of the music practise rooms?" The Professor asked as he rummaged in his desk drawer.

"Yes please," Harry responded, his heart beating a little faster in excitement.

"Right, well there are five practise rooms available to students that do not take either Music or Muggle Music. All rooms are equipped with a desk, a desk chair, the appropriate seating for the room's use, a blackboard and a jug of iced water. Any additional features in the rooms relate to whatever type of instrument is predominantly played in there. Room one is for vocal practise and therefore contains lip-balm and lozenges for sore throats, plus lots of Muggle style lined paper, and ballpoint pens. Room two is for woodwind and brass instruments, it too contains lip-balm and lozenges, as well as anti-bacterial wipes. Room three has stands for guitars, as well as shelves for smaller stringed instruments, and stands for sheet music too. Room four has a piano in it, not much else to be honest and room five has a drum-kit in it. Which room do you need?"

"Number five please, am I allowed to take other instruments in there?" Harry asked, he didn't want to have to book two different rooms if necessary.

"Of course you may, what other instruments do you play? Do you have them here with you, or are you borrowing?" Flitwick asked, jotting something down in his notebook.

"I play bass and guitar in addition to drums, and I have both with me," Harry told him, secretly feeling very satisfied at the pleased look the Professor gave him.

"We haven't had a drummer for a few years at Hogwarts, so I can quite safely grant you unlimited access to room five. If another student comes forth however, you will need to come back to me to make further arrangements." The Professor paused, and Harry grinned, it looked as if he'd have a place to hide out if he began to feel overwhelmed. "There are some rules that you need to be aware of, however. The room must be locked when not in use; you will collect the key from me when you wish to use it, and must be brought back to me before curfew. Drinks are allowed in the room, and food is allowed at the desk only, anywhere else and you will be punished, believe me, we will know. The rooms are subject to random inspections, due to abuse of silencing charms in the past, many offenses involving the exchange of bodily fluids, but a few involving Muggle drugs, alcohol and cigarettes. This year Professor Snape is carrying out inspections, as he is less likely to be lenient about punishment. The practise rooms both are and are not a privilege. Session time cannot be lost for wrongdoing outside of the practise rooms, unlike Hogsmeade visits, however misconduct within the rooms will most definitely result in loss of session time, and if frequent enough, permanent loss of music room privileges. As you have other instruments to go in there, I will have a wrack placed in there, as well as some additional seating, while you collect them. Practise rooms are near the top of the castle, on the sixth floor, the Headmaster says he likes being able to hear students playing."

Harry was more than a little surprised at some of the rules, and why they had been implicated, but upon reflection, he supposed they made sense. Gratefully, he thanked the Professor and left the room with his friends.

* * *

The drum room was almost exactly how he had expected it, a smallish room which contained exactly what the Professor had said, with the addition of his own two instruments. Anticipation bubbled in his chest as he pressed his earplugs into place, and held his brand new sticks cautiously. In his head, he imagined Matt picking up his punishing rhythm, the suggestive and sexy bass-line, and Paul's distinct acoustic lead. Mentally, he counted down to his cue, a ten second break from both guitars, leaving only the innuendo filled throb of the bass. Adrenaline hummed through his veins as he began, an urgent and insistent beat which –to Harry- thrummed with the exquisite agony of arousal and desire. The beats steadily increased in speed, just as the other elements of the song would, portraying both lust and fear, a beautiful but deadly nightmare. At the climax –both the awakening from the lurid yet sensual dream and the ending of the song- Harry threw his head back, as he himself had orgasmed, his body –arms and abdomen in particular- felt as if it were on fire. Droplets of sweat were flung in every direction as he exposed his throat to nobody. He turned away from the drum-kit, his eyes closed as he stretched, a satisfying series of pops running the length of his back as he did.

"I must say, Potter, I rather enjoyed watching you play."

Slightly alarmed, Harry's eyes flew open, and he was shocked by the sight before him. Draco Malfoy stood leaning casually against the door, his arms folded over his chest. Most astonishingly of all was the pretty pink blush that tinged the boy's pale cheekbones.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" Harry demanded, not knowing if he had the willpower to not smack the annoyingly haughty blonde.

"Would you believe me if I said that Voldemort has been living in Malfoy Manor since June, and after being around him and his vile followers I want nothing to do with them?"

Despite the obvious seriousness of the situation, Harry snickered.

"I'm sorry Malfoy, I'm not laughing at you, or your predicament," he quickly assured, he wasn't exactly looking for a fight. "One of my friends essentially implied that Voldemort is a hobo, and the fact that he's squatting in Malfoy Manor, and probably mooching off of your father just kind of confirms that theory. Let's face it, he's a fifty odd year old hermit." Harry explained, trying his absolute hardest to keep a straight face. Malfoy smiled, and Harry felt distinctly pleased, though he couldn't quite identify why.

"I agree with that friend of yours. I don't want to be like one of his thoughtless minions, I want to be able to think for myself and do whatever I please. I guess this is my first independent decision in that respect," Draco elaborated, and he sounded so uncertain that Harry wanted to offer the boy a hug. Instead, he nodded.

"I do understand, if this is the case, how do you want us to act? Are you going to be subtle and still pretend to be a douchebag or are you going to be overt and say 'fuck Death Eaters, they're pathetic wankers'?" Harry was genuinely quite curious, as the latter could make Draco's life exceptionally difficult.

"Death Eaters are pathetic wankers, they can all burn in Hell for all I care," Draco asserted, leaving Harry with little room to doubt his choice.

"Okay, my friends and I will try to be more civil, although I can't speak for them, they may not believe you. In the meantime, do you wish to stay and listen for a bit?"

Harry didn't get a verbal response, instead, the blonde seated himself on the armless sofa, and pressed his slim fingers against his ears. It wouldn't be as effective as proper plugs, but it would protect his hearing from damage for a short period. Harry decided on an aggressive song, one that had only just been completed but was without lyrics. They had gone through several versions, however none seemed to work. As he pounded on the snare and tom-toms, and beat the bass drum in a pattern that was deliberately out of sync with the rest of the sound, sweat beaded at his temples and around his collar, seeping into his school shirt and turning it transparent. His back screamed at him, and he arched it, seeking to alleviate his discomfort, throwing his head back once more, and exposing his still slightly discoloured Adam's apple. When he glanced at Draco, he noticed the boy's blush had darkened and spread slightly, creeping down his neck and over the bridge of his nose. Draco was also teasing his lower lip with his teeth, a sight which Harry thought could be the basis of a song on its own. One thing that Harry was not pleased about, was that it was only a single bass drum setup, he had learned on a double bass drum rig.

At the closure of the song, when Harry looked up again several minutes later, Draco was gone, and Harry was almost disappointed. After a few minutes of contemplation, he decided to take a shower and make sure he had enough vests and shorts to practise every evening, before he came down from his adrenaline high.

* * *

**Hey guys, I just want to say, I know nothing about drumming hahaha, but I play bass and guitar, so I understand the process of learning how to play an instrument. While the bits in relation to drumming may not be entirely accurate, I'm trying my best :p **

**THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!**


	4. Chapter Four

There was a distinct possibility that Harry had overdone it that weekend, he had spent every spare second holed up in Music Room Five, alternating between pounding on the relatively unused drumkit and attempting to play the rhythm guitar element of several songs, and he was happy enough if he even achieved half of the speed required to play the punishing phrases that Matt and Paul concocted. By the time Monday morning had arrived, he could barely move. His left hand throbbed at the slightest movement, the skin worn down by several layers due to the heavy gauge strings everyone in the band used, his arms throbbed, his shoulders and back smarted and his calf muscles felt tight, as if he had been running. He tried not to show any discomfort as he hobbled down the dungeon stairs, and attempted to ignore the comments hurled his way, the best being 'attention seeker' and at absolutely worst 'attention whore'. It was difficult, however, especially as some of the comments were coming from Harry's own housemates. Neither of his best friends commented, though he believed that was probably because they already knew he wasn't faking it. A part of him absolutely dreaded turning up to Potions in the condition that he was in -he wouldn't be in a fit state to brew if he needed to- and he would be a much easier target for the Slytherins to sabotage his work. Undoubtedly there were going to be another barrage of nasty insinuations coming his way. As he, Ron and Hermione neared the classroom, the Slytherins looked around, some of them sporting downright vicious leers.

"Did you have a good night with your boyfriend, Potter?" Malfoy suddenly asked, though Harry noted that the malicious pleasure Draco used to exude when insulting him was gone, and he guessed that Malfoy was just doing it to keep up appearances. The expectation was probably that he would absolutely flip out, furiously squawk obscenities and deny the existence of such a person. That would have been his response before spending two months in close quarters with five other boys that constantly joked about each other's sexual conduct.

"What Jake and I do, is really none of your concern, Malfoy," Harry replied before he had even thought about the implications of revealing such a personal thing about himself. Silence descended over both groups of students. The Slytherin half of the students grinned sadistically, and from behind him, from within the crowd of Gryffindors he heard some muttering. The only thing he managed to make out, however, was Seamus insulting him.

"Wow, how much more obvious do you want to make it that you're an attention seeking lunatic?"

Harry swallowed thickly, he had no idea how quickly the new revelations would manage to spread around the rest of the student populace, and he wasn't sure how others would react, though he assumed Seamus's reaction would pretty much be the norm. He knew it would seem suspicious, everything that happened that summer, considering the Ministry's adamant claims that Voldemort hadn't returned and that both Harry and Dumbledore were absolutely stark raving mad. Harry had hoped that his romantic life would be the one thing he could keep between himself and his friends, he had even asked Jake's permission before he set off, he hadn't known if the bassist would want their relationship to be known about Harry's school. The answer had been reassuring. Jake had promised that he didn't mind Harry telling his close friends, and he also didn't mind if Harry said nothing at all, though Jake implied that he would be boasting about Harry to his own friends in college. His blush had been as dark as a beetroot when Jake whispered that, oh so hotly into Harry's ear.

"For once, I find myself agreeing with a Potter," came the insultingly surprised voice of the resident Potion's Master, and everyone gathered around the classroom had the good grace to at least mumble a half-arsed apology to Harry. "I will see you after class, Mr Potter," he added as he opened the classroom door. A surge of indignation washed over Harry, he felt he hadn't done anything at all to deserve being held back after class. As far as he could recall, he hadn't sworn, insulted anyone, drawn his wand or anything to that effect. He did wonder if he was actually in trouble or if he was going to get a lecture about being more careful when speaking. Neither, he felt, would shock him at that moment in time.

As the class began to work, after a particularly long speech detailing the topics of study for the following term -which Harry was already aware of thanks to his additional work over the summer holidays- Harry found he was immensely grateful that Alex had dragged him to the opticians only days after meeting him, claiming that Harry's old glasses frames didn't suit his face at all, and -for all intents and purposes- commanded him to get his eyes checked. Thankfully, spectacles for people under the age of sixteen were free, though it had taken some heavy cajoling to actually procure an appointment without his guardian present. The benefits were so vast, that Harry cursed himself for not complaining sooner to Madam Pomfrey about the fact that his glasses were too weak for his use. He noticed he was working much more slowly than his peers, and assumed that was because he was in a fair amount of discomfort. Despite this, he was only one or two stages behind his classmates, and that was mainly because he had chosen to prepare his ingredients at the start of the potion so that the pain in his hands and arms wouldn't affect the timing of the potion, should he be too slow in preparing each component of the brew.

Professor Snape didn't make a snide remark as he peered into Harry's cauldron, and he hoped that was a good sign. Ordinarily, if Harry had made a mistake, the snarky Professor would comment immediately, often in an unnecessarily loud voice, obviously intended to humiliate his least favourite student. He even checked with Hermione, and in whispered tones, they discussed the ease of preparing each ingredient before working on a potion. Harry felt quite foolish when he realised that Hermione had adopted that method of brewing years beforehand, and that was she credited her success in the subject to, as well as to paying close attention to how each component and step of a potion could affect the overall result. The only real issue he had was when it came to bottling a sample to be marked, he had trouble controlling the shaking of his hands, which he was sure stemmed from a slight repetitive strain injury, he -along with the rest of the band- had suffered from a few as the days had slipped past.

In accordance with Professor Snape's request, Harry made sure to pack up his things sedately, he was almost certain that he wouldn't have been able to move any faster even if he wanted to. When the last of the other students had cleared out of the room, a few straggling Slytherins evidently hoping the Professor would start reprimanding Harry with others still in the room. Before Harry had a chance to make his way to the Professor's desk, the Potion's Master had pulled up a chair in front of Harry's workstation.

"I noticed you were having some issues with mobility," the Professor informed Harry by way of explanation. "I like to keep tabs on certain relationships in the school, there are some groups of people that are more vulnerable or less likely to seek help if they need it, unfortunately you are in that category in part because of who you are, and also in part because you have insinuated you are currently in a relationship with another man. I can assure you that anything revealed here will be completely confidential, I will not disclose any of what you may or may not tell me, unless I believe you are at risk. Do you understand?"

Harry felt his heart thunder in his chest, he was unused to anyone thinking of him in that manner, though he was slightly reassured that a person in a position of authority cared about the welfare of his students quite as much as Snape apparently did. Harry felt as if the professor had an odd way of showing his commitment to his job.

"I understand," he replied, sincerely hoping he didn't sound too nervous. He was a little alarmed when the professor took up his quill, obviously about to make note of anything of particular significance.

"If I write anything down, it will go into the locked drawer with the rest of the details I have collected over the last few years, no one but myself has access to that particular drawer. Firstly, what is your partner's full name?" He asked, and for the first time, Harry couldn't detect the subtle boredom that the Professor's voice seemed to perpetually contain.

"Jacob Anthony Hillier, though he prefers to be called Jake," Harry answered, guessing that it was in his own interests to give as detailed responses as he could.

"How old is Jake?"

"Jake is sixteen, seventeen in a few days I think," he offered, trying to recall when the boy had said his birthday was. No matter how hard he tried, the thought eluded him.

"How did you meet?"

"We met at his school's summer fare, and we are a part of the same band," Harry explained, finding the expression on the man's face to be somewhat unreadable, though if he had to guess, it was something akin to intrigue.

"A little off topic, but what type of music do you play?"

Professor Snape was not someone that Harry thought would ever be interested in the type of music he and his band played, he had assumed that Snape would be one of the first to tell him to sit down and stop talking nonsense.

"Rock, though we currently don't have a specific style, we're aiming for punk or alternative, we think," Harry explained, though he wasn't sure if he was entirely comfortable with talking about the band like that. It seemed odd to him though, that he would feel such discomfort and he supposed it was because he didn't feel as if he could speak on behalf of the band, considering he was such a new member. At his answer, the Professor smiled widely, and pulled up his sleeve to reveal a wristband, inscribed with the words Reading Festival.

"I hope to see you there someday, I have a tendency to attend every year. Finally, would you say that any sexual activity you have engaged in with Jake was mutually consensual?"

Harry frowned for a few moments, had either of them really expressed their consent he wondered, or had they been caught up in the heat of the moment, surely that was consensual. He decided to voice his thoughts before the Professor grew more concerned.

"I believe so, neither of us explicitly agreed, but I couldn't find any valid reason to object at the time, or even now, and I'm almost certain Jake had no objections," he said, feeling slightly self-conscious. The Professor nodded, folded the piece of parchment up, and stowed it away in the depths of his robes.

"That will do then, Mr Potter, I do hope that Mr Hillier and yourself continue to have such a good relationship, it seems to me as if you are both already heavily in tune with each other. Your summer work will be given back to you next lesson, though I can tell you, yours was much better than usual, and incidentally one of the better assignments in the class."

Harry all but stumbled out of the classroom, he had been expecting several nights worth of detention -even though he hadn't technically done anything- as well as a few points docked, and so was pleasantly surprised at the result. The fact that the professor was praising his summer work, albeit in his unique way, was the icing on the proverbial cake. Ron and Hermione were curious as to what had transpired, but Harry felt too giddy to even attempt retelling the events.


	5. Chapter Five

It took Harry several days to recover from his strain injury, and in that time he found he was the centre of a very much unwanted attention. Most, if not all, of the school -bar Ron, Hermione, Fred, George and Ginny, they knew the truth- were of the opinion that he was making up his relationship for cheap thrills. Harry frowned to himself, Jake was by no means made up, he privately believed that if he was going to make up a story about his sexual escapades, he would make it more interesting than a steady relationship with a boy he met during the summer. He was quite frustrated with himself for revealing so much at once, and at Draco for making such a dangerous comment. It was a new breed of insult from the blonde -even though Harry knew the boy didn't actually mean it anymore- and Harry hoped it wouldn't become a regular occurrence. Harsh comments were to be expected that year, particularly now that it was common knowledge that he had a boyfriend. He had to admit that his band-mates had excellent timing though, just as he was beginning to feel miserable at the turn of events, he had received a rather thick envelope containing letters from all five of them. It had cheered him up immensely to read about their shenanigans, and Jake's letter seemed to whitewash his concerns.

_Harry,_

It read, and he could almost imagine Jake sitting beside him, recounting these things in person.

_We all miss you, but I think I do the most. I hope I do, it would be weird if I didn't. College is kind of tough, my music teachers are quite surprised by what they perceive to be a sudden increase in my skill as a bassist. I'm rather insulted to be perfectly honest, I don't think I've improved at all! We practise every day, but we're not quite happy with the sound. I don't know if anyone else has mentioned it. While Ezra is -admittedly- a slightly, I repeat, __**slightly**__, better drummer, his heart isn't in it, and he lacks your furious spirit. There is also the small [massive] issue of his voice being drowned out by the drums. For the meantime, we won't be playing any live shows, it's not fair if you're not around to experience it too, and it's not particularly fair on Ezra if he can't sing, seeing as that is where his talent lies. The positive thing about him filling in is that, obviously, we are able to practise with all of the musical elements. (We can't wait to have you back on the stool though!)_

_One of my friends from college is taking a Photography A-level, and she's also in my art and music class, I think I rambled a bit there… but she took some pictures to send to you, I hope you like them._

_My mum offered to pay for me to get some tattoos for my 18th, I can't wait! I'll get Hayley (my photographer friend) to take more pictures when that's done, okay?_

_I'll miss you more and more as each day goes past. Look at me, being all poetic and shit. Hey that gives me an idea for a song! You'll get that soon too!_

_- from your now green haired boyfriend!_

Harry grinned to himself as he lined up outside of Defence Against the Dark Arts with Ron and Hermione. It was the first time that day he had a chance to look at the photos. Both of his friends peered over his shoulders as he looked at the snapshots. Harry guessed the first was taken during music, Jake's bass hung from his shoulders as he performed in his usual arthritis inducing pose. He hadn't lied when he said his hair was green. The second was of Jake, his hands smeared with colourful paints as he waved to the camera. The third was snapped at the park near Ezra's house. Harry decided he would leave the pictures in the music room, seeing as no one else used it.

It was also his first opportunity of the day to read the lyrics that Alex had sent him. The vocalist said that he couldn't quite get them to flow, and he wanted Harry to take a look.

He noticed his peers had begun to file into the classroom, and followed suit. The lyric filled pages he placed on his desk, with the intention of retrieving parchment, quills and ink from his bag, were snatched from beneath his eyes by Professor Umbridge.

"It would appear Mr Potter has some poetry he would like to share with us, do sit down everybody, this ought to be good!"

It was approximately ten seconds into the first Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson of the year, and already he loathed the petty, toad-faced bitch. In Harry's opinion, her pathetic, simpering voice was insult to Alex's hard work.

_"You always knew just how much you meant to me,  
yet you betray me as if my feelings mean nothing,  
I prayed for our happiness together,  
yet it appears you were on your knees for a different reason._

_You no longer have the right to look at me like that,  
with your innocent eyes,  
your caring tone as you stroke my hand was all just a farce  
you no longer have the right to look at me and say;  
'my darling'_"

There was a smattering of sarcastic applause, and Harry felt enraged, it was embarrassing that she would do such a cruel thing.

"Trouble in paradise, Mr Potter?"

"May I have those papers back, Professor?" He asked as politely as he could manage. It probably wasn't very politely at all. He was trying his hardest to ignore the sniggers from the rest of the class.

"I don't think so, I'm confiscating it," Umbridge replied with such a smug sense of superiority on her face that Harry wanted to hit her.

"I need to send those back to my friend in a few days, he's expecting it," Harry explained, and once more he forced himself to remain calm. He already knew that arguing wouldn't get him anywhere with a woman like this.

"That is neither here nor there, Mr Potter, you may not have it back, regardless of whom is expecting it."

Harry fumed silently, he could feel the vindictive, sadistic pleasure the Slytherins took in his misfortune. On a whim, he turned to Draco, who -for once- wore a blank expression. There was something strange about the way he was looking at Harry.

They were expected to read the first chapter of some useless book that Harry didn't even know the name of, yet had read the entirety of during the summer, and Harry didn't particularly feel like cooperating, not after that little facade. Instead of the reading, he read the music he had been sent, and found that he was quite excited to begin learning it later that day. He could tell it was a very fast paced song, and when he looked at the prospective title, he realised it was the music from the lyrics he had just lost. The first thing he thought was that the lyrics were too reminiscent of a ballad to fit the punchy rhythm in front of him. He wanted to keep the tone of the song, but edit the lyrics to make them more suitable.

He could barely pay attention during History of Magic, not that he had done much paying attention to begin with, and when the end of the day's classes came about he hurried off up to the sixth floor. Harry threw his bag into the corner, not caring where it landed, and sat at the desk, pen in hand. The door opened, but Harry paid it no attention, he assumed it was a Professor doing inspections.

"I'm really sorry about what I said on Monday," came a surprisingly apologetic voice from behind him. "I got you these as an apology."

Harry turned around, and the first thing his eyes landed on was the neat, printed script of Alex's handwriting. Harry stared up at Draco, not quite believing what was going on.

"How did you get this?" Harry asked, he had been under the impression that he wouldn't be seeing those pieces of paper ever again.

"I offered to take it to Dumbledore as proof that you're being a sod, I basically flattered her until she gave it to me," Draco admitted sheepishly. Harry grinned and thanked the Slytherin.

"It's okay you know, the comment on Monday. You thought I'd be like 'oh shut the fuck up Malfoy, as if I'm gay'. I should've considered what I was saying more carefully. Would you like to see a picture of him?"

Draco's eyes widened, and Harry could understand why, but he was doing it as a sign of friendship. The blonde nodded and seated himself on the sofa. A slight feeling of trepidation came over Harry as he rooted through his bag for the fat envelope. He was quite sure that Draco had never seen a Muggle punk before.

"Here," he said, and passed the photos to the blonde. Draco was silent for a few minutes, and Harry wondered if he was at all disgusted by the appearance of the elder boy. Eventually, Harry noticed the Slytherin's eyes darting between the bass Jake was playing, and Harry's one, comparing the two. "Jake's bass is a professional range model, easily more expensive than a Firebolt, my one is cheap shit in comparison," he admitted. Once more, Harry noticed the odd look in Draco's eyes.

"Does it sound good?"

Harry glanced at the blonde, and wondered what he was thinking.

"His one sounds fucking amazing, it's so rich and deep, has a real throb when it's turned up loud. My bass, on the other hand, sounds quite good when given a decent amp, however most of the time it sounds like what it is. Cheap shit. It doesn't help that he's been playing since he had long enough arms, whereas I've been playing for two months."

Draco looked at the instrument once more, and Harry believed he finally understood what was going on.

"Do you want to give it a go?"

The reaction was so immediate that Harry was saddened he hadn't realised sooner. Malfoy nodded, a pink flush blossoming on his cheekbones and down his throat.

"Wait here then, have a play around on the drums if you want, my sticks are in the top drawer, along with unused earplugs, please use them, you want your hearing to remain intact."

* * *

When Harry returned, he found Draco glaring at the drum-stool. It was so amusing that he couldn't cover the snicker.

"I suppose that was an uncomfortable experience, that or you broke it." Harry paused, and grew slightly alarmed when Draco didn't respond. "You didn't break it did you?"

"No, I did something stupid and fell off," Draco eventually conceded.

Harry propped the case he was carrying up against the wall.

"Give me a moment, I need to find my wire cutters and spare strings, this one has different types on it to mine.," he explained as he rifled through the numerous belongings that had already begun to accumulate in the music room. Once he had found them, he unzipped the case, revealing a metallic red Squier P bass. One by one he loosened the strings, removed them and then wiped down the fretboard with cleaning solution. After which he replaced the strings with the new heavier ones. He tuned it, getting the instrument as close to his in sound as he could, and then passed it to Draco. He moved the desk chair so that it was in front of the sofa.

"Okay, hold it like this," he demonstrated, "with that fat-ass string at the top, yep! Okay, now you play like this, kind of like running with your fingers, it's called fingerstyle, or plucking."

He watched as Draco attempted the plucking, immediately taking note of the sound produced.

"Your fingernails are too long, bass is supposed to be quieter," he said, offering the blonde an emery board. "You can produce different sounds by pressing down on the frets, that's those bumps along the neck. The closer you are to the nut, the lower the sound, the closer you are to the body, the higher the sound. Give it a go," he instructed. Once Draco had filed down the offending nails, he began to play, plucking at the E-string. Under Harry's instruction and encouragement, Draco began to get more confident, until Harry decided it was time for Draco to learn a simple song.

"Your hand will hurt soon, playing guitar or bass is actually quite strenuous," Harry informed him, and he wondered if Draco would believe him. "This is the easiest song we've got," he continued.

He played slowly, with Draco trailing several notes behind, until eventually he got the hang of the first part of the bassline. By the time Draco had grasped the first verse, his hand hurt too much too move, and he had worn some of the skin of his fingers away.

"That happens a fair amount," Harry admitted, "you can stay for a bit longer if you like, I'm going to start learning something new, so it might be a bit boring."

"No thank you, I need to see Professor Snape," Draco said, and put the bass on the rack with Harry's guitar.

"You can come back and continue another day, if you want," Harry said, privately hoping to see more of the blonde. Draco nodded, and hurried out of the room, a pleased look gracing his features. Harry smiled to himself, and swapped instruments, readying himself to learn yet another composition.


End file.
